


Sweet Dreams

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-snap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: For years Clint has been having dirty dreams about Scott.  Newly brought in out of the cold by Natasha he gets a chance to explore a little bit of that.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Scott Lang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Sweet Dreams

Unexpected would be a good word to describe the whole situation that Clint Barton found himself in. Unexpected but not necessarily unwelcome. It shocked him that at his age and after what had happened, that he could or did have these feelings, but his dreams made it pretty damn clear. Clint had a massive crush on Scott Lang. During the day they worked together, trained together, even ate a couple meals a week together. Clint liked that, had missed that part of being on a team while out avenging as the Ronin. What he hadn’t expected or wanted were the dreams. 

The first one happened the first night they were in The Raft together and he’d pushed it off as some sort of prison-induced craziness. Why the hell else would he dream about kissing a guy, especially _that_ guy? The dream didn’t go farther than that the first time, though subsequent dreams had left Clint mildly incapacitated come morning, refusing to do what nature was craving and rub one out mostly because Clint knew he’d end up thinking about the guy while doing it. They’d been infrequent annoyances early on, dreams that meant nothing other than waking up half hard and pissed off. That had been when Laura was still with him. 

After The Decimation, they stopped. Clint was incredibly grateful because he was already carrying around a world’s worth of survivor guilt. He didn’t need to add disrespecting his wife to the equation thank you very much. At first Clint didn’t really sleep so he didn’t have to worry about dreaming, and when he had it ended up being nightmares of watching his family turn to dust. Scott Lang didn’t show his face in Clint’s subconscious for a moment for the first year. By the time Natasha was pulling him off the street, though, he’d started making the odd appearance. 

“Come home with me, Clint,” Natasha said softly, her fingers curling into his right there on the street. The rain was pouring and all Clint could think was _I’m so tired_. So like he’d pulled her out of the cold once, she did the same for him and brought him home to the Avengers compound where he slept for a day straight, Natasha holding watch over him and not letting anyone close. When he woke he felt like a new man, a man who might have a purpose again. It wasn’t as good as it had once been, they’d all lost people, but maybe they could adjust. 

“Who’s left,” Clint asked as he drug the towel over his face. 

“Steve, myself, Thor, Bruce…”

“Wanda?” Natasha shook her head and Clint felt ill. Poor kid. 

“Scott’s back in the picture. We thought it had gotten him too, but it turned out he was just stuck in the back of his van… long story.” She shook her head clearly telling him that now was not the time. Somehow there was breakfast though Clint didn’t remember anyone coming in or out, and for the first time in a long time he was hungry. He ate to sustain himself, but had gotten good at ignoring what his body was telling him. They ran through some acquaintances, talking about who they knew made it and who hadn’t. It felt like it was a lot more _no_ than _yes_. Natasha made sure he ate, watching him as he did. 

“Shower before you come out,” she told him as he finished his dinner. “You smell…charmingly masculine, but it’s not for everybody.” Natasha leaned in and pressed her lips to his forehead, eyes closed. “I’m glad you’re home, Clint.” 

“Me too, kid,” he told her with a gentle hand to the back of her neck. “I’m going to go shower because I stink,” he told her with a smile that was mostly sincere, only a little forced. Clint headed to the shower thinking about the fact that Lang was back in the picture and hoped that didn’t mean the return of those dreams. He really couldn’t take it right now.

Clint felt much better on the other end of a shower, cleaner and more able to focus. He actually found himself whistling a little tune he hadn’t thought of in years mostly because thoughts of the tune and where it came from were a bit painful post Snap. “Hey, what is that,” a voice asked from behind Clint while he stretched on the mats. 

“It’s from a cartoon,” Clint told Scott as the man came around to face him, looking down at Clint from above. 

“Yeah, I know that, which one. I recognize it and it’ll drive me nuts otherwise.”

“Uh… Steven Universe,” Clint told Scott watching as the guy got down on his knees and started to echo the stretches Clint was doing. “My kids used to watch it incessantly.” 

“My Cassie too,” Scott said with a smile. The smile was warming and Clint didn’t know that he ought to feel that way though his doubts didn’t make it any better. “There’s a movie now, have you seen it?” Clint shook his head, going down deep for a lunge. “It’s good, lots of action and feelings, what Steven Universe is good for,” he told Clint. 

Before he realized what he was saying, Clint spoke: “We should watch it sometime.” 

And that was how Clint had wound up in the lounge at the compound watching the Steven Universe Movie with Scott Lang the next night. Scott surprised him with popcorn, a nice little addition that Clint enjoyed. It took a little while into the film, but once the first sad song hit, Clint was tearing up. His kids would never get to see this, they’d never get the songs stuck in his head by playing them on loop. They were gone. 

The hand on his shoulder was a shock and Clint looked up to realize Scott had moved in closer, sitting on the cushion next to him with a couple of napkins. “I know. This part got to me too.” Clint couldn’t tell if the man was joking or not, but there was a hug that followed that was definitely not joking. It lingered and Scott patted Clint’s back softly. 

They parted after the movie, Clint having cried through about half of it. He slept like the dead that night, bothered only briefly by dreams of Scott Lang climbing into his bed and holding him the same way he had on the sofa. It had been the safest he’d felt in a very long time and there was little that could substitute that feeling. 

They passed a few times the next day and Scott was totally cool about what had happened the night before, actually offering to watch whatever Clint wanted tonight if the guy was up for it. Scott seemed interested in spending some time with him and Clint was too lonely and too interested not to take the bait. 

So they hung out, trained together, just generally got to know each other over the next couple of weeks. And every night they’d cap it off by watching something in the screening room. They were the only ones who used the room with regularity so it sort of became their hangout. It was a comfortable place after two weeks and Clint was and wasn’t surprised by what happened one Tuesday evening. 

The first brush of Scott’s lips against Clint’s was soft, almost non-existent. The man was nervous, instigating something that might get him punched in the face if he’d calculated wrong. Scott hadn’t, though, and Clint’s lips fell open in a soft sigh, shocked at how fully focused he was on the man in front of him, at how fucking good this felt. It wasn’t just that he was being kissed, it was that he was being kissed by a man he’d had reoccurring fantasies about for a few years now. The only man Clint had ever had thoughts like that about. 

Scott’s lips were surprisingly soft and welcoming, Clint deepening the kiss after a minute’s playful, soft kissing. The man moved from where he was sitting next to Clint to straddle Clint on the couch, settling in on Clint’s lap like it was owned him. Clint liked that. “Fuck,” he ground out when Scott settled his weight down into Clint’s lap, his lips on Clint’s neck kissing furiously. 

“That’s the idea,” Scott teased, his hand caressing Clint’s chest. “I want to see you,” he urged tugging at Clint’s sweater with both hands wanting it off. Now. “I want to taste you.” 

“No complaints there,” Clint said sitting up a little and pulling his sweater off, setting it to the side. Scott stared at Clint’s chest, his hands running over it then down the man’s abs. 

“No complaints,” Scott echoed, giving a low whistle as his fingers traced the cut of Clint’s groin where it disappeared into his belt. His mouth was next, following his hands’ path over Clint’s body making the larger man moan softly for him. Clint could feel Scott filling out against him, their cocks lining up through layers of denim to rub against one another. It felt incredible, more so when one of Scott’s hands moved to Clint’s belt, eyes darting up to check that that was ok before proceeding. 

Clint gave a little nod, swallowing thickly. What was he doing? He was in his 40’s and about to have sex with a man for the first time. This was insane. People didn’t do that. Only maybe he did. Because the sensation of strong, masculine fingers wrapping around his cock made Clint jerk his hips up into Scott almost unseating him. Clint turned their bodies, laying Scott down on the sofa as he followed, lining them back up once more to rub against one another. “Jesus, Barton,” Scott moaned when he got his rhythm going, Scott’s hands caressing his ass and the backs of his thighs. “You’re going to make me cum in my pants.” 

“Then you should take those off,” Clint said with a deep growl in his voice. Scott didn’t need to be told twice and shimmied out of his jeans. Clint did the same, leaving them bare against each other for the first time. It was weird having another cock on the scene but it felt good when Scott lined them up and held them both in his hands. Clint could and did thrust through the ring of fingers he’d created, moaning the other man’s name. 

“Let me suck you,” Scott asked Clint looking up with wide, hopeful eyes. 

He didn’t know why Scott even asked. When, in the history of men, had a guy ever said no to head? “Yeah,” Clint growled, moving back to his seat while Scott dropped down to the ground on his knees between Clint’s legs. Clint ran his fingers through Scott’s hair, rucking it the wrong way then back to how he liked it a few times while Scott ran his tongue over every inch Clint had to offer. He was not shy at all, using the flat of his tongue to cover as much of Clint as possible. He moved up to the head and Clint moaned, getting a moan in response from Scott. 

Clint had to admit that this was sexy as hell sharing this moment with Scott here in the screening room. Scott wrapped his mouth around the head and bobbed a few times clearing all of Clint’s thoughts. 

Clint closed his eyes and sat back, appreciating how Scott was really bold about this. He was practiced and Clint both appreciated that and found himself slightly jealous of whomever Scott had practiced with in the past. “Slow down,” Clint found himself asking. “It’s been awhile.” He was libel to go off fast if Scott kept going at such an eager, practiced pace. 

“It’s ok, however long it takes you it’s ok.” Scott flushed, “I like being on my knees… for you, for you,” Scott said realizing he’d paused in the wrong spot. “No pause.” Clint laughed and leaned down to catch a quick, soft kiss from Scott before he went back to taking care of Clint’s needs. 

Yes, it had been awhile, but Scott was also very good at this. Maybe he did like being on his knees. “Fuck… yeah,” Clint groaned when Scott’s hand moved to his balls, working Clint until the guy was trembling with excitement. “Jesus Christ, Scott,” Clint groaned, fingers tightening in dark hair. Scott looked up at him, eyes a little watery around the edges but focused intently on Clint. That was what brought him off in the end, that look from Scott that turned his balls inside out with pleasure, Scott sucking down every drop he had to offer. 

Clint wasn’t usually a selfish lover, preferring to let his lover cum first if he could at all control it. Scott, though, seemed to feel the same way. And he wasn’t asking anything of Clint in the moment as his hand slipped around his own cock. “… I… I uh….” Clint found his words deserted him in that moment but Scott seemed to get what he was trying to say. 

“Just kiss me,” Scott asked as he climbed back up onto the couch. It was both an ask and a given as Clint leaned in to brush his lips against Scott’s. It was an ask in that Clint wasn’t usually a big one for making out after oral and a given because they’d already kissed. So, something he was both comfortable and uncomfortable with, which was thrilling. He could taste the bitter, salty aftertaste on Scott’s tongue as they kissed, the furious movement of Scott’s arm barely a blur in Clint’s perephrial vision. He was focused on the man in front of him, on his lips and the soft way he smiled into kisses he was especially into. 

Scott’s arm sped and Clint knew the man was close. He ran his fingers through Scott’s hair, grunting quietly to, “cum for me.” That did the trick because moments later Scott was seizing up, everything pausing a moment before it came crashing back to the most pornographic sounds out of Scott’s mouth. “That’s it… fuck, dude. That’s it.” Scott kept their lips close together as he finished, co-mingling their breath as he came down from his high. 

Scott took a couple of minutes to come back to himself, half hanging on Clint for awhile as he caught his breath. When he finally did, he pulled his hand away from his cock and asked if Clint wanted another beer. “… you don’t have to jump up so soon,” Clint pointed out. Though, yes, he would like another beer. The urge to stay close to Scott was more of a driver than the need for brew. That was saying something at this point in his life, too. 

Scott seemed to appreciate that Clint didn’t want him to go because he cleaned himself up a little and settled in at Clint’s side, head resting on Clint’s shoulder. “You ok,” Scott asked quietly, his hand on Clint’s thigh. 

“… yeah, I think so. I mean, it was good. I just…” suddenly couldn’t think of anything other than his dead wife and kids. Clint was grateful Scott was there to anchor him in that moment because the emotion became overwhelming fast and furious. “Well fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “Firsts are …. they can be really hard when you loved someone.” Scott sat up a little bit, “first time after my divorce I cried,” Scott admitted. “It was… so bad.” 

Clint listened to Scott babble for a little bit about the first time he had sex after his marriage broke up. It wasn’t the same but Clint understood the point Scott was trying to make. And while Clint was overwhelmed by emotion right now, he wasn’t going to start crying. Not here at least. Scott ran his thumb down the furrow between Clint’s brows, reminding him of a similar gesture Laura used to make. It took a couple of deep breaths, but he kept the tears from falling once again, turning to look at Scott. He was here with this man now and he needed to stay anchored to this spot. “…and she asked me not to come back.” Clint cringed on Scott’s behalf. “I know. It was bad. So I don’t want this to be bad for you. I like you a lot, Clint. As a guy and as more than that.” 

“You like me as more than a guy,” Clint asked confused. 

“I like you… I just… I like you,” Scott said. “I’ve liked you since Germany in the van. You were funny even though we were going to a fight. I liked that.” Scott squeezed Clint’s thigh. “And you aren’t bad to look at either.” 

“That guy would have said no,” Clint told Scott. 

“And rightfully so. But that was five years and one very important snap ago.” Scott looked at Clint, “what does this guy say? This one sitting in front of me now, in from the cold.” 

“… he says… I’ve never really done anything with guys.” Clint blushed, “I’m probably going to be bad at it.” 

“ _It_ isn’t all I’m looking for,” Scott said softly leaning in to kiss Clint’s cheek. “That ok with you?” 

“… I don’t know,” Clint told him honestly. “I need to think about it. Screwing around is one thing….” Emotion, connection… that was something else. 

“Can I point out that you’re the one who wanted me to stick around a little after so maybe there’s hope for you,” Scott said brushing some of Clint’s hair from his forehead. “I like the new hairdo, by the way. It’s very you.” Clint’s mohawk was a bit droopy at the end of the day, flopping here and there. “I liked the other style too, but I like this a lot.” 

“Thanks,” Clint ran his hand down the side of his head, rubbing the short hair the wrong way. “Laura would have hated it.” Clint smiled at the memory of her seeing him with super short hair after a mission in the desert. 

“Really hated it or hated it and grown to like it,” Scott asked. 

"Probably the later if I kept it, though I probably wouldn’t keep it if she didn’t like it.” It was weird to talk about his dead wife like this and Clint thought to the wedding ring he wore on a chain around his neck. 

“I’m sorry you lost her,” Scott said honestly curling into Clint’s side a little more. Clint wrapped an arm around him, squeezing tight. “It seems like you love her a lot.” 

“I do,” Clint agreed. It was weird to be holding someone so intimately talking about Laura. He barely talked to Natasha about Laura and the kids let alone a guy he barely knew. “Miss her like crazy,” Clint said softly into Scott’s hairline. They sat there in silence for awhile after, Clint holding onto Scott as Scott’s arms wrapped around Clint’s torso. “… hey,” Clint told Scott after some time, “ready for that beer if it’s still on offer.” 

“Always my friend, always.”


End file.
